


Hearts & heads

by enoughiamagod



Series: Bond Air is Go [6]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Bond!lock - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), bondlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Asexual Sherlock, Asexual!Sherlock, Bond!lock, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Straight!John, ace Sherlock, ace/sexual relationship, reflection on relationships, romantic fluff mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2076648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enoughiamagod/pseuds/enoughiamagod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock thinks about John, Q and Bond are in love, and Mycroft is alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearts & heads

**Author's Note:**

> Quick one-shot update.
> 
> do not own characters.
> 
> enjoy!

 

Q and James go round for dinner on Thursdays, bringing a bottle of wine and crackers though John insists their company is enough. There they sit, at the cramped corner table, food piled high, laughing and talking as the night drifts on outside the window to 221B and the level of wine in the bottle lowers.

Mycroft is not invited to these dinners. He doesn’t expect to be, not after Q’s abduction or Sherlock’s drug use.

 _Really, not since we were young_ he thinks to himself, then shrugs it off. He’s not lonely, he swears, not hurt by his exclusion from dinners and parties.

It’s true too that he could have made the effort, could have shown up more when the invitations came, but he was busy, very busy, and that wasn’t his fault, was it?

He turns on the treadmill and starts to run.

 

* * *

 

John sees the looks that flash between Quartermaster and agent, see the quick little touches of the hand and the heat that sizzles between them and when they stand to leave, Sherlock opens his mouth but John gently touches the back of his hand, _no_ , and Sherlock closes it again. Goodnights are bid fondly, and heartily, and though they’ll be back for brunch on Sunday, this life is a precious gift.

No one mentions Q’s scars, ever, or his stiffness of movement, and John, wise in ways Sherlock does not know but sees makes it look as if he is not helping while helping and Sherlock cannot help but to wish for that grace that John carries alight inside him. He does not have it, however, and his eyes meet James’ own sharp blue ones (this is a man he understands, all lines and formulas and values. _No sentiment._ ) and he sees that James sees, and is grateful. A fierceness rises in Sherlock, a weakness, he tells his mind. No matter. John Watson is his heart, and Sherlock will always let him rule his head.

 

When Q and James get home, they kiss hot and sharp and needy in the doorway and through the halls, losing clothing until it’s bare skin sliding against skin and heat and flesh and teeth and sharp hips clutched by delicate fingers and cries and finally, when the sheets are tangled around them and the night lies quiet and still, they sleep.

 

Sherlock watches John from the bedroom, watches as he brushes his teeth, shirtless, ( _showing off?_ Sherlock does not know.) his body just going soft now, though John fights hard against age.

“He’s doing all right,” John says, without looking, and Sherlock nods in reply.

“He is, John. I am glad of that.” Sherlock lays down, and John comes in and sits next to him, smiling. He reaches and turns off the lamp, and moves into the bed, small and solid, and Sherlock breathes a bit easier and his heart races a bit faster, and he thinks that soon it will be time to go see the family jeweler and order the ring he’s drawn up, a ring made of all the things John Watson is, steel and love and this night, bodies not quite touching, breathing quiet in the dark, and a slow, steady hand reaching out to caress his own.

 

 


End file.
